The things that I take on
I soon shrug off
’cause I know no one
Will ever be content
With the way things are
Or with what they’ve got
So I’ve given up and now I’m just indifferent

-Relient K

So, I’ve reached that point.

I have a sketch that I started on the day before Christmas Eve. Today, I stared at my closed sketchbook for five minutes going over the merits of actually making myself pick it up and finish it. And I couldn’t bring myself to care at all about it. Instead, I left it on my shelf and went back to reading fanfic and not feeling much of anything.

It’s helping a little, but there is still quite a large part of me that looks long and hard at my life—at where I am at my age (28) and thinks of what a complete failure I am as an adult. I can’t help it. Yes, there are people who love me. Yes, I am receiving support that a majority of unemployed people my age aren’t getting. My parents are supporting me. I should consider myself lucky. I should feel a measure of happiness. Continue reading →

This is my brain on January 2nd. According to the doctor, it showed a normal scan. I, however, was showing symptoms of a concussion. Nausea, fatigue, dizziness, headache, difficulty concentrating, mood swings, etc. I’d been through the rigamarole twice beforehand, so I knew what to do. Have someone watch me that first night, get plenty of rest, stay off the computer for a while and avoid the TV. And I did that.

I recently gave myself a concussion. The details aren’t really important, but the headache has lasted a little over three weeks now. In seeing the neurologist, I was diagnosed with post-concussion syndrome and given a prescription for some medication. It’s hard to concentrate and watching television is taxing, so I’ve been listening to audiobooks and poetry to keep occupied. I came across this poem (which has since become a favorite of mine) in an iPhone app called “The Love Book.” It’s called “Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann, and it’s read by the lovely Tom Hiddleston.

To start, let it be known that I have depression. Technically, it’s “Major Depressive Disorder,” but, whatever.

Here’s the thing about depression: It’s not “being sad.” Depression describes the sensation of utter apathy toward everything. Eating, drinking, watching your favorite television show, writing, drawing, being awake—everything. When I’m in a depressive episode, I just want to sleep and ignore the world. If I miss my medication, not only does it make me feel like my skin is about to crawl off of my body, but I feel like nothing. I feel like, not only do I not matter, but nothing around me matters. I simply exist, and I loathe myself for taking up any amount of space.